


Corruption

by Marsalias



Series: Ectober Shorts [4]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Ectober 2018, ectober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/pseuds/Marsalias





	Corruption

Day 4: Corruption

.

There was a blackness creeping through the air and along the ground of the floating island. It smelled of rot and fire, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Danny wanted nothing to do with it.

"That's what I need to fight?" asked Danny, reluctance edging his tone. He swallowed. "Does it need to be a fight? Maybe we could just... evacuate? Maybe, I don't know, quarantine it? I mean, it doesn't even have a body, or anything."

"Unfortunately, you do have to fight it, Daniel," said Clockwork. "This isn't something that will go away on it's own." He put a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder. "I will be here, Daniel. I know that you will prevail."

Danny laughed nervously. "That does help, yes. Oh, jeez. This isn't going to be fun."

"I am sorry."

"It's okay," said Danny, steeling himself. He began to drift down, stopping just before the blackness. It felt wrong. Oily. Dirty. Hungry. He couldn't help himself from hissing at it.

It hissed back.

Danny gathered an ectoblast, hoping to dispel the darkness as one would blackness. It didn't do anything, even when Danny fired straight into the murky mass.

He looked back up at Clockwork. Clockwork gave him an encouraging nod and shifted into his child form. Danny bit his lip and descended.

It was a good thing that he didn't have to breathe in ghost form, or he would have suffocated. The darkness was oppressive. It was a pressure. The light he held in his hands did nothing.

What was he supposed to do here? Why was he even doing this?

He could be home. He could be doing homework. He could be hanging out with Sam and Tucker. He could be pranking Dash.

His lips twitched up at that. Images flashing across his mind's eye. Dash, his locker overflowing with Fenton Wipe. Dash, soaking wet. Dash, sporting a bloody nose, his shoelaces tied. All the A-listers, jumping, running scared as lockers banged open and closed. All the people in Amity who mocked him, who attacked him, who slandered him staring up, wide eyed and afraid as he stood in the sky, his eyes shining like green stars, a storm brewing at his fingertips. He saw himself, laughing, as every evil thing ran before him, as he cast out each and every thing that could do harm to his family, to his friends, to Amity Park, to his people, to what was _his,_ as he destroyed them, as he burned them all to the ground, and he searched and found and _purified._

He saw himself laughing, laughing, laughing, finally happy, finally at peace, as all the power was his, as he kept everyone, everywhere safe, secure, and happy, _or else, _and all the things who called him a _monster-_

Danny pulled himself out of the vision with a gasp, gagging on the oily filth of the darkness. How could he-? What had- What had that even been? He hugged himself. What was Clockwork making him do? He hadn't even told him what this _was._

Clockwork had no right to make him do this. No right at all. When this was over, he'd have to make Clockwork understand that. No matter what. He had to make him pay for-

Danny cut himself off again, recognizing the signs. It was this darkness, this oily corruption that was making him think like this, making him giggly and giddy. It was a drug, permeating his air, his clothing, sinking into his skin. As soon as that thought crossed him mind, he flared his aura, making it as hot and bright as he could, and then as _cold_ and bright as he could make it. The cold was a much more extreme and potent temperature. The oily substance on his skin burned and froze, dried and crackled, peeling off, clearing his mind.

He flared his aura again, ectoplasm and light pooling in his hands, even his eyes flaring painfully bright.

He had promised. He had promised again, and again, and again. He had _promised._ He would never become a monster. He would never hurt people just because they didn't like him.

His ectoplasm gathered around him in a tight shell, a scintillating shield, pushing back the darkness. He could see now. His suit was stained and torn, his skin sported dozens of tiny cuts, each bleeding bright green ectoplasm.

He charged his shield with 'cold energy' (gosh, he hated even thinking that, _the physics_) and light until it couldn't stand any more, until the shield shivered and pulsed. Then he let it explode outward, sweeping away the darkness.

Spent, he dropped to the surface of the floating island, distantly noting how blasted it was, how scarred. Something touched his back, and he flinched away, flipping over and gathering a few pathetic wisps of ectoplasm to his fist.

It was just Clockwork. He lowered his hand, breathing heavily, trying to organize his thoughts. A keen, high-pitched noise rose in the back of his throat, and he felt his eyes begin to sting. Clockwork swept down, folding Danny into an embrace.

He started to cry.


End file.
